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Halloween Short - Intrepid Manor
ArchivedUser
Guest
I know it's a bit late to be posting, but I never got around to submitting it and ended up missing the deadline for the event. But, seeing as I wrote it anyway, I figured I might as well post it on here for you guys. Enjoy.
Intrepid Manor
Bastion found himself staring up at the Mansion warily. He tightened his jaw and looked down at the piece of paper in his hands. He had been sent here by a barmaid by the name of Belewyn. He smiled as he remembered the young beauty.
“Intrepid Manor, eh?” He thought aloud. The dusking sky cast an awfully eerie array of lights and shadows, many of which danced beneath the trees as the wind began to howl. The cawing of Ravens could be heard from atop the Manor and as quickly as they had landed they took flight; seeking shelter from the brewing storm.
Bastion began to make his way towards the large wooden door as the first droplets of rain began to slither down his cheek. It wasn’t long after that the rain began cascading down, as if the gods of Verra suddenly began weeping in sorrow for a grave loss not yet known.
As he raised a hand to the large gargoyle door knocker, it began to creak open. Bastion peered inside slowly. A single eye, as deep in color as a blood moon itself, peered back. The rest of the house seemed to be shrouded in darkness.
“A visitor? My, we don’t get those often anymore.” It was a man’s voice, raspy and jaded.
“My name is Bastion. I’ve come in search of the truths behind the legend of this very Manor.” The door opened ever slightly more, as if he had piqued the interest of the creature dwelling inside.
“Ah yes, yes.” The man seemed to be searching for something around Bastion. After a moment, he seemed satisfied enough. “Come in.” It almost sounded as if he demanded it. Bastion frowned slightly, but stepped inside anyway.
He could see more clearly now, the house was dimly lit with myriad candles lining the house, casting a parade of shadows that thrived in the darkness where the light could not touch. Massive beast heads were mounted along the tall walls; Bastion almost swore their eyes all turned towards him. He dismissed the thought as his attention fell upon the strange gentleman before him.
An eyepatch covered one of his eyes, a nasty scar peeking out from atop and below. The man’s good eye seemed to be a normal amber color in the adjusted light, and it were as if a single flame fought to stay lit amongst his snow white hair and pale skin. The telling signs of age were clear as the smile rippled amongst the valleys of a face long forgotten.
“The rain clings to you nicely…” Bastion tilted his head at the odd remark. “AH, ahh. It’s nothing, I’m getting too old.” The old man cackled, what seemed to Bastion to have a sinister wickedness to it, causing chills to shoot down his spine.
“You’re shivering, let us get you by the fire while I prepare dinner lad.” He ushered him towards another room as the crackling of welcomed warmth began to flow against the wanderer’s skin.
Bastion thanked the man for his hospitality. “By the way, who else lives here with you. Mister….?” The man inquired, soaking up the warmth of the flames.
“Call me Rivoire. I’ve lived alone now for many many years now.” Bastion was puzzled, remembering his use of ‘we’ previously at the door. The geezer must really be old, he thought.
“I see.” Rivoire took a slight bow and stepped out of the room. Bastion turned his gaze towards the flames. After but a moment, he became entranced by them. The way they rose up, and darted back and forth, as if trying to avoid one another. It was mesmerizing.
It were as if the flames were trying to speak to Bastion. They began to entice him with visions of the apparent past. A group standing in front of the Manor, all smiling with their arms around each other. One of them looked like a much younger Rivoire, and another seemed to resemble the barmaid, Belewyn. Suddenly, the flames ignited a dark purple accompanied by a roar as they grew in ferocity, and the manor was now ablaze. Bastion must’ve been going crazy, as he began to hear the screams of the people burning inside. They had been trapped, all but Rivoire who stood outside, some kind of liquid dripping down from his hands.
Before bastion realized it, he had fallen asleep. The next thing he knew, he opened his eyes to Rivoire sitting in front of him. His hands were tied. He struggled to move, to no avail. His head felt groggy, like he had been drugged.
“What...what did you do to me old man?” Rivoire bore an impish smile, flashing a set of fangs. His eye was no longer covered. What had been hidden behind was something inhuman, an eye coated a jet black and what seemed to be blood seeping from his tear duct. The other eye was back to it’s deep red color, only now it was horrifyingly complimented by a slit pupil.
“They’ll be joining us soon.” Bastion looked at the man in horror, his voice was demonic.
“What are you talking about you crazy bastard. Release me now!” Bastion tried his best to sound intimidating, but the drug was really working a number on him. It came out merely as a mumble. His eyes began to grow heavy.
“Ah, they’re here! My dear family, welcome back.” Rivoire’s voice had reverted back, and it sounded as if genuine happiness began to overtake him. “Peter! Jeff! Steven! And looky here, even our beloved Belewyn decided to join us for this delicious feast tonight!” He stood up, and spun Bastion around in the chair, and the ill-fated wanderer looked on in sheer terror. It was the family. Their faces charred and it was as if their skin was writhing underneath like it never stopped burning. The smell of burnt flesh caused Bastion’s eyes to water.
“Don’t feel bad…” The voice was soothing, it was the barmaid. “You were chosen.” A twist of hell polluted the once angelic voice. Then one of the men stepped forward with a large knife, pressed it against Bastion’s neck, and slowly slid it across.
“Intrepid Manor, eh?” He thought aloud. The dusking sky cast an awfully eerie array of lights and shadows, many of which danced beneath the trees as the wind began to howl. The cawing of Ravens could be heard from atop the Manor and as quickly as they had landed they took flight; seeking shelter from the brewing storm.
Bastion began to make his way towards the large wooden door as the first droplets of rain began to slither down his cheek. It wasn’t long after that the rain began cascading down, as if the gods of Verra suddenly began weeping in sorrow for a grave loss not yet known.
As he raised a hand to the large gargoyle door knocker, it began to creak open. Bastion peered inside slowly. A single eye, as deep in color as a blood moon itself, peered back. The rest of the house seemed to be shrouded in darkness.
“A visitor? My, we don’t get those often anymore.” It was a man’s voice, raspy and jaded.
“My name is Bastion. I’ve come in search of the truths behind the legend of this very Manor.” The door opened ever slightly more, as if he had piqued the interest of the creature dwelling inside.
“Ah yes, yes.” The man seemed to be searching for something around Bastion. After a moment, he seemed satisfied enough. “Come in.” It almost sounded as if he demanded it. Bastion frowned slightly, but stepped inside anyway.
He could see more clearly now, the house was dimly lit with myriad candles lining the house, casting a parade of shadows that thrived in the darkness where the light could not touch. Massive beast heads were mounted along the tall walls; Bastion almost swore their eyes all turned towards him. He dismissed the thought as his attention fell upon the strange gentleman before him.
An eyepatch covered one of his eyes, a nasty scar peeking out from atop and below. The man’s good eye seemed to be a normal amber color in the adjusted light, and it were as if a single flame fought to stay lit amongst his snow white hair and pale skin. The telling signs of age were clear as the smile rippled amongst the valleys of a face long forgotten.
“The rain clings to you nicely…” Bastion tilted his head at the odd remark. “AH, ahh. It’s nothing, I’m getting too old.” The old man cackled, what seemed to Bastion to have a sinister wickedness to it, causing chills to shoot down his spine.
“You’re shivering, let us get you by the fire while I prepare dinner lad.” He ushered him towards another room as the crackling of welcomed warmth began to flow against the wanderer’s skin.
Bastion thanked the man for his hospitality. “By the way, who else lives here with you. Mister….?” The man inquired, soaking up the warmth of the flames.
“Call me Rivoire. I’ve lived alone now for many many years now.” Bastion was puzzled, remembering his use of ‘we’ previously at the door. The geezer must really be old, he thought.
“I see.” Rivoire took a slight bow and stepped out of the room. Bastion turned his gaze towards the flames. After but a moment, he became entranced by them. The way they rose up, and darted back and forth, as if trying to avoid one another. It was mesmerizing.
It were as if the flames were trying to speak to Bastion. They began to entice him with visions of the apparent past. A group standing in front of the Manor, all smiling with their arms around each other. One of them looked like a much younger Rivoire, and another seemed to resemble the barmaid, Belewyn. Suddenly, the flames ignited a dark purple accompanied by a roar as they grew in ferocity, and the manor was now ablaze. Bastion must’ve been going crazy, as he began to hear the screams of the people burning inside. They had been trapped, all but Rivoire who stood outside, some kind of liquid dripping down from his hands.
Before bastion realized it, he had fallen asleep. The next thing he knew, he opened his eyes to Rivoire sitting in front of him. His hands were tied. He struggled to move, to no avail. His head felt groggy, like he had been drugged.
“What...what did you do to me old man?” Rivoire bore an impish smile, flashing a set of fangs. His eye was no longer covered. What had been hidden behind was something inhuman, an eye coated a jet black and what seemed to be blood seeping from his tear duct. The other eye was back to it’s deep red color, only now it was horrifyingly complimented by a slit pupil.
“They’ll be joining us soon.” Bastion looked at the man in horror, his voice was demonic.
“What are you talking about you crazy bastard. Release me now!” Bastion tried his best to sound intimidating, but the drug was really working a number on him. It came out merely as a mumble. His eyes began to grow heavy.
“Ah, they’re here! My dear family, welcome back.” Rivoire’s voice had reverted back, and it sounded as if genuine happiness began to overtake him. “Peter! Jeff! Steven! And looky here, even our beloved Belewyn decided to join us for this delicious feast tonight!” He stood up, and spun Bastion around in the chair, and the ill-fated wanderer looked on in sheer terror. It was the family. Their faces charred and it was as if their skin was writhing underneath like it never stopped burning. The smell of burnt flesh caused Bastion’s eyes to water.
“Don’t feel bad…” The voice was soothing, it was the barmaid. “You were chosen.” A twist of hell polluted the once angelic voice. Then one of the men stepped forward with a large knife, pressed it against Bastion’s neck, and slowly slid it across.
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